


Liquid Courage

by stargazing_lions



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Keith gets really flushed when heavy drunk, M/M, Pining!Keith, Pining!Lance, Underage Drinking, mentions of Hunk and Coran, some good ol fashion langst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargazing_lions/pseuds/stargazing_lions
Summary: Here he is, wasted, ¼ of the way clothed, starfished on the floor of his bedroom, and it was without a doubt Lance’s fault.——Aka. In which Keith gets drunk and calls Lance pretty.





	Liquid Courage

Keith is buzzed, he decides while stumbling down yet another seemingly endless castle hallway towards his quarters.

 _Scratch that_ , he thinks to himself after running into the door frame to his room, _I’m fucking wasted…_

He makes his way into the bathroom, flicks on the lights and stares at his fuzzy reflection.

“You're drunk,” he murmurs to himself, turning on the sink and splashing his face with cold water, “you're wasted and it's all Pidge’s fault.”

Pidge was, after all, the one who had challenged him to a drinking game. One shot of the deep blue, and very intoxicating liquid every time Coran touched his mustache, and wasn't until the two were almost in tears trying to hold in their giggles, no doubt over something that would never be funny while sober, and Pidge was nearly falling off of her stool she trying so hard, that the booze had been snatched away from them by a rather disapproving looking Hunk. That had only been two drinks in.

“You're a lightweight!” Keith exclaims, pointing at his reflection, giving himself a very serious look before he dissolves into yet another giggles. “I'm a… I'm a seriously serious lightweight!”

But then again it was Coran who had brought the alcohol aboard in the first place, completely unaware that this drink, which was a sort of lemonade to Alteans, would be so intoxicating to the humans aboard the ship. So maybe he was to blame instead.

Keith runs a hand through his hair and leaves the bathroom, turning off the light, and slips into a pair of pajamas. He's got one leg in the pants, balancing on it as he begins to put his other leg in when he freezes as a thought hits him.

It wasn't Pidge’s fault he was drunk, and it wasn't Coran’s either. It was Lance’s fault he was in his room, balancing on one leg, completely wasted.

Keith sighs and sits down on the hard floor, bare chested, one leg in his pants and the other free. He lets out a long and low groan, fingers threading through his black hair, trying, and failing, to push away the thoughts of Lance’s bright smile, soft eyes and nimble fingers. He sucks in a large breath and then groans again, allowing himself to flop completely down onto the floor.

Here he is, wasted, ¼ of the way clothed, starfished on the floor of his bedroom, and it was without a doubt Lance’s fault.

Lance was the main reason he had accepted Pidge's challenge. The boy had been the only thing on his mind for days, and all Keith wanted was to think about something, anything, other than that smooth voice and the way Lance’s soft brown hair curls at the base of his skull. He wanted to forget, even if it was only for one night. So far, Keith was failing miserably.

Now that he is drunk, he has absolutely no control over the flood of Lance related thoughts racing through mind, into his lungs, through his veins, and throughout his entire being until the only thing he can comprehend, albeit drunkenly, is Lance.

How badly he wants to see him, how badly he wants to hear the other boy’s bright and full laughter.

How badly Keith needs to be able to touch him-- to hug him tightly and never let go, to intertwine their fingers, to kiss him…

“No…” Keith groans again, dragging out the “oh” sound. He shakes his head brings his hands up to hide his face in them.

“You're just drunk, and… and you're being dumb and you just need to,” he pauses for a moment, thinking as carefully as he could in his intoxicated state, rolling his head softly from side to side, “you need to clear your head and, uh, and go for a walk!”

He nods to himself in approval and begins the tedious task of getting back on his two feet. Once balance is achieved, and both of his legs are fully their respective pant legs, he sets off on his journey.

He allows the cool air of the castle seep into the skin of his bare torso, sobering him up slightly as he makes his way down the long corridors. All is silent, except for the barely there hum of the castle’s engines, making Keith realize that it was probably much later than he had originally thought; everyone else on board must be asleep, excluding Coran who was no doubt keeping an eye over everything in the control room.

The stillness washes over Keith like a wave, soothing his racing mind— and heart— and he feels like he can truly breath for the first time in days. That is until he passes an observation deck and notices a familiar figure being silhouetted by the soft starlight from outside. It's sitting down, shoulders slightly hunched, as it gazes outside of the ship.

Lance.

Keith stands there, unnoticed, watching in the doorway for several moments, every drunken fiber in his being screaming at him to go, go to Lance, gather him in his arms and never let go, but he stops himself simply of of the sheer terror of rejection.

As he turns to go, his boot scuffs the floor, the squeaking sound made seemingly ten times louder by the silent atmosphere, and he freezes as Lance sits up straight and whips his head towards the noise.

_Shit._

Even through the darkness, Keith can see Lance’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and his hands making quick work out smoothing out his olive green jacket.

“Keith? What are you doing?”

The boy in question quickly tries the think of a response, but between the drinks and every ounce of his body screaming Lance, Lance, Lance! he can't think of a single thing so he shrugs instead, feeling as though it was the safest option.

“Couldn't sleep?” Lance says with a soft, sympathetic smile, “it's okay… I couldn't either.” He hesitates at Keith's silence and stillness before adding, “you can, uh, join me… if you want.”

At Lance’s words Keith feels his skin go ablaze, his face no doubt a deep red, but he swallows thickly, curtly nods once, and goes to join the other boy sitting cross legged in the center of the room.

He plops down next to Lance, suddenly very conscious of his lack of a shirt, and draws his knees up to his chest. The two sit in silence for what seems like an eternity, staring forward into the dark abyss of space, until Lance draws in an unmistakably shaky breath which gets cut off as soon as Keith, who suddenly feels more sober at this sound, whips his head towards the other boy.

“Lance,” Keith says softly, his voice cautious as he finally notices the fresh tear tracks running down the younger boy’s cheeks, “Lance what's wrong?”

Lance stiffens, muttering a curt “nothing!” and quickly turns his head the other direction, wiping his cheeks in an attempt to hide his tears.

“Lance?” Keith asks again quietly, as though he was trying to not frighten a deer. “Lance it’s okay, what’s wrong?”

The boy in question’s shoulders drop slightly, relaxing from their previously tense state, and very quietly he whispers, “today would have been September 25th.”

Keith, confused as he was before prompts the other to continue with a soft bump of their shoulders.

“Hunk, he uh, he made a calendar? Of sorts? Right after we got here,” Lance gestures to the space just outside of the window, “just so we wouldn’t completely lose track of time while we’re out here… I guess it’s sort of a way to keep a bit of our humanity while we, you know, defend the universe and stuff? But anyways according to Hunk’s calendar today is September 25th.”

Lance draws in a deep breath, smiling sadly and looks down at his clasped hands in his lap before he continues speaking. “My little sister is turning 13 today,” his face drops once more, “My kid sister is finally turning into a teenager and I can’t even tell her happy birthday-“ his last words are harshly cut off by a choked sob as Lance loses the fight against his tears and lets them run freely down his face.

Keith sits there, stunned for a moment before suddenly gathering the crying boy into his arms, something, Keith thinks bitterly, that he would never let himself do while he was sober.

He feels Lance stiffen in his arms for a brief moment before relaxing, letting himself be comforted by the red paladin. The tears come hot and fast, falling onto Keith’s bare shoulder, and he feels his heart pounding as he slowly rubs his hand up and down Lance’s back in a way he hopes is comforting.

Lance sobs until it feels like he can’t produce any more tears, he cries for his sister, he cries for his mother, he cries for this entire family. He cries for the ocean and the rain, the wind and the fresh green grass, but for the first time he doesn’t feel lonely as he lets waves of emotions crash over him. He feels safe here, in Keith’s arms, and the affection that he has been hiding for the other boy starts to seep into his veins, dulling the sadness that had previously been running through them.

“I… thank you,” Lance says as he sits up, wiping his cheeks and letting out a soft, sad sort of laugh, “I’m really sorry I’ve never really cried on someone who isn’t my mom before…”

Keith stares at him, frozen in place, trying to wrap his drunken mind around the situation. He shakes himself from his thoughts and nods his head muttering, “It’s okay… don’t be sorry,” he pauses briefly looking back at Lance’s expectant face, “do you, do you want to talk about it?”

Shaking his head softly, Lance gives Keith a hesitant smile. “No, thanks, but I think I’ve already put you through enough,” he laughs gently, “and besides I’ll be okay… we’ll all be okay.”

At a loss for words, Keith nods in response. He desperately wishes that he could reach out once again, take Lance’s hand in his and tell him over and over that he’s right he will be okay because he’s so brave, strong, and kind, not to mention handsome. But he’s not drunk enough for that. Not even all the liquid courage in the universe could get Keith to say that out loud.

Lance’s words startle him out of his thoughts.

“Hey Earth to Keith! I said do you want me to walk you back to your room, or are you sober enough to make it on your own?”

“How did you-“

“Keith,” the other boy laughs, less sadness in it this time, and shakes his head, “I’ve spent more that enough time in various bars to know when someone’s drunk, and besides you tend to flush when you’ve had one too many drinks.”

Suddenly even more self confidence than before, Keith touches his cheeks, as if to hide their redness from the other bit, but Lance gently wraps his fingers around Keith’s wrist, pulling his hands back down. The red paladin feels his face heat up, now sure that his face is not only flushed because of the alcohol, but because of the blush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks.

“Don’t worry though,” Lance murmurs quietly, a familiar grin spreading across his face, “it’s pretty, it brings out your eyes.”

Keith snorts. “No you’re pretty,” he freezes in terror as soon as the words leave his mouth without permission, “I mean- I uh…”

Then, Keith takes off, out of the observation deck, down the hall, and he doesn’t stop running until his back hits his bed and he hides from the world around him under his blankets, leaving an amused Lance sitting cross legged on the observation deck floor.

—————

The lights are too bright, his mouth too dry, and banging on his door is way too loud as Keith jolts awake the next morning.

“What?” Keith groans loudly towards the offensive banging coming from his door. It stops momentarily, and he lets out a sigh of relief, thankful that the terrible noise stopped, but then whoever is on the other side starts knocking again, this time with more vengeance.

“What!” Keith nearly shouts as rips off his blankets and storms to the door, opening it. He groans again when he’s met by the sight of a much too perky Pidge, holding one of Hunk’s famous space biscuits and a glass of water.

“You missed breakfast,” she states matter of factly, handing him the said items, “how are you feeling, hotshot?”

Keith gladly accepts the biscuit and water, and walks back over to his bed, motioning for the other to walk into his room. “Like hell, I feel like Red just stepped of my skull… how come you never get hungover, you nerd?”

Pidge shrugs her shoulders quickly and plops down next to Keith, tucking her legs underneath her. “I don’t know… I guess I’m just lucky.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Keith happily eating and drinking, before she speaks up once more. “You should try to get some more sleep, Shiro’s giving us the day to relax, says we deserve it after the last few battles,” Pidge gets up and walks towards the door, stopping to look back at Keith before walking out. “Oh Keith, Lance asked about you at breakfast this morning,” she says smiling, “I told him to wait until later to come and talk to you, just so you’re not so, you know, hungover.” And with a wink and a small laugh she’s out the door and down the hallway before Keith can respond.

—————

When Keith wakes up again, the lights aren’t as bright, and his mouth isn’t as dry of before, but there is still knocking at his door, all though this time it is much softer. He huffs and groans quietly as he tosses aside his blankets, and gets up to open the door, revealing a sheepish looking Lance.

Keith’s heart skips a beat.

The blue paladin looks up from his feet as soon as he hears the door start to slide open and feels his face break into a wide smile once he sees (a still shirtless) Keith on the other side.

“Hey,” Lance beams, “I just wanted to drop by to say thank you, for you know, last night. It really did mean a lot to me,” he pauses before adding, “how are you feeling?”

Keith stares at the other boy for a moment, slightly dumbfounded because here he is, _Lance_ , the boy who he’s been pining over for so long, standing outside of his door with that huge dopey smile, _thanking him_ , and Keith isn’t sure if he should be ecstatic or extremely nervous.

His stomach says nervous, but his heart says ecstatic.

“Hey man, you look paler than usual,” Lance exclaims, a bit of concern in his voice, “why don’t you go sit down and I’ll get you some more water.”

Under any other circumstance, Keith would have adamantly refused, claiming that he “can get himself some damn water,” but when a cute boy, more important a cute boy who just so happens to be Lance offers to get him some water, Keith can only manage a short nod and a smile before he goes to sit down on his bed.

Lance brings him a fresh glass and settles himself down opposite of Keith, watching him take a few sips, before he smirks.

“I guess you could say that we had another a bonding moment last night.”

Keith nearly chokes.

“You cradled me in your arms.”

Groaning loudly, Keith sets the glass down on his nightstand and buries his face in his hands.

“At least you remember it this time.” He grumbles. Lance laughs wholeheartedly, his head tossed backwards, and he lightly placed a hand on Keith’s knee. Keith’s stomach flips and his heart sings.

“I also seem to remember a certain someone calling me pretty?”

Blush once again begins to up the back of Keith’s neck and across his cheeks as he begins to stammer.

 _Goddamn liquid stupidity_ Keith thinks bitterly.

“I was right,” Lance says in a soft, fond voice, “you do look pretty when you blush.” He reaches out and hesitantly takes Keith’s hand in his.

“Is this okay?” He asks the blushing boy quietly.  
Keith nods furiously, his cheeks turning a deeper red, and Lance smiles grabs Keith’s other hand as well.

“Listen, Keith… I uh,” He starts rubbing his thumb slowly across the backs of the red paladin’s hands, “I’ve been wanting to tell you— for a while now actually— that you’re always pretty… I mean you're actually always gorgeous, but that’s not what this is about… Keith,” he looks directly into the other’s eyes, and Keith feels his heart stop, “I like you, like… a lot… and I know that we’re like ‘rivals’ or whatever, but I don’t wanna be just that anymore… I want to make you happy, and I want to hug you, and if you’re okay with it I want to ki-“

Overcome with joy at the other boy’s words, Keith surges forward before he can stop himself, cutting off Lance’s words by pressing their lips together. The kiss is awkward for a brief moment before they both relax into it. Lance scoots closer and drops one of Keith’s hands in favor of threading his finger through black hair, Keith responds by cupping the side of the other’s face with his now free hand. They continue, pouring out all of the bottled up desire, desperation, and affection into the kiss, until the break apart, foreheads still touching as they pant for air.

“So,” Lance whispers happily, “I assume this means that the feeling is mutual?”

The other gives a small nod, his face breaking out into a huge grin. “Yes, that and so much more.” Keith runs his thumb along Lance’s cheek, and he feels him respond in kind, pulling Keith closer to him.

Lance plants a soft peck onto each of Keith’s cheeks while muttering a “I’m so glad,” and then closes the gap between them once again.

Through the butterflies in his stomach, and the gasps caught in his throat, Keith feels pure joy coursing through his veins and he knows in that moment that this is only the beginning to a very happy chapter of his life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
